Cold
by PinkGemz27
Summary: A look into Alex's mind after her fight with Gene in 2.8. One-shot with lots of angst and introspection.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Ashes to Ashes (despite my best efforts to find my very own Gene Genie)**

**This is for Laura, who wanted an insight into Alex's mind after THAT fight with Gene in 2.8. (Hope it's up to standard for you!) Also dedicated to the very lovely Malena, who always gives plenty of encouragement. **

Cold

_Alex was, of course, a brilliant mum._

_Was I though?_

**x0x0x**

_You know, it just struck me how truly cold you are, Drake. You told me once you had a daughter. You don't phone her, you never talk about her, you never try and see her._

**x0x0x**

Her hand stinging and her mind echoing with Gene's words, Alex stormed out of CID, past the front desk and out onto the cold street. Her heels clacked on the pavement and she pulled her jacket around her to protect from the biting November wind. How dare he? How dare her accuse her of being cold, of not caring about her daughter?

Cold and uncaring was what her own mother had been, when she'd left her at school to watch the Royal Wedding alone, whilst everyone else had gone home to watch it with their families. A woman so driven by her desire to change the world and reach the top of her profession, she didn't have time to spend with her own daughter. _But you're cut from the same cloth, Alex, you're your mother's daughter. Molly was almost killed because of you, because you put your job before her. You didn't even spend the day with her afterwards, you sent her off with Evan and then Layton came after you. And now you're leaving Molly, just like Caroline left you. _The tiny mocking voice in her head taking over, pricking her conscience, just as the tears pricked the back of her eyes.

"That's not me. Molly is the centre of my world. Everything I've ever done was for her." Alex spoke the words aloud, as if to affirm them to herself and yet they still sounded hollow. Letting herself into her flat, Alex went straight into her bedroom and lay down, silent tears running onto her pillow as she buried her face in it, sniffing softly and wishing the scent of her daughter would fill her senses. Her visions of Molly had become few and far between in the past few months and it seemed the closer she became to Gene, the more she tried to live a life here, the weaker her connection to Molly had become. On those days when 1982 seemed real, her elation at feeling that she was living a full life, full of colour and noise, was soon replaced with an overwhelming sense of guilt that she had left her daughter behind.

Guilt was an emotion Alex was used to dealing with in 2008. Every time she dropped Molly at Evan's at the weekend because she had been called to the office, every time she was late collecting her from school because she lost track of time building a profile. Alex Drake's life was one big guilt trip and now, hovering on what must be the boundary between life and death, there was no escape from the ever-present feeling in the pit of her stomach, the feeling that was like a volcano, sometimes dormant but always there, bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to erupt. Gene was the embodiment of Alex's guilt in 1982, the one thing that kept her grounded in this world, the one thing that made her not want to go home.

"No, I don't want to stay here with him. I'm a mother and my child needs me. Gene doesn't need me, he made that perfectly clear." Alex stared defiantly at the ceiling as she said the words; she so wanted to be angry and furious with him, but in reality she was hurt. His words had cut her right to the core, she'd believed they had a connection, just as he'd said, but if that was the case, why couldn't he believe her? After all they'd been through together, how could he know so little about her?

_Because you never let him in, Alex. You hid things from him, weren't honest with him, how could he possibly believe that you were from the future, that you __are__ trying to get back to your daughter? _ His face as he had suspended her. The coldness and harshness in his voice as he'd taken her warrant card. _Me organ-grinder, you monkey. Give._ The disappointment and betrayal in his eyes when he'd spoken of their connection. _You can't tell me the truth. _Alex shook her head, trying to shake off the niggling voice of reason. How did she expect Gene to believe her, when she couldn't even figure out the situation herself? Her theories about this place veered wildly from believing it was all in her imagination to a reluctant acceptance that it was all somehow real. Whichever theory she settled on each day filled her with some sadness and disappointment.

Accepting the 1980s as real made day to day life more bearable but when she was alone at night, the idea that the twelve years spent bringing up her daughter were all in her head became too much. Those nights were the worst, the ones she spent in her flat, alone with only a bottle of Luigi's red for company, hoping that if she drank herself into oblivion, she might return to the imaginary plain where she lived with her daughter. Except that her daughter wasn't in her imagination. Was she? Lying in the dark, Alex reached under the hem of her blouse and gently ran her fingertips over the curve of her hip, touching the almost invisible silvery line that followed the contour, the evidence of her motherhood, the marking that reminded her, on those days when she forgot everything, that her goal here was to get home.

"I tried to get home to you, Molly. I kicked and scream and fought to save my parents but I couldn't. I've tried to make a difference by working with Gene. I helped Summers cover up the murder of his younger self. Whatever I do, it makes no difference. I've tried, Molly, I've really tried..." Alex's words were swallowed up by great heaving sobs as the futility of her situation hit home. It seemed she was destined to stay here, wherever 'here' was, at the expense of her daughter, another young girl left motherless. "I'm sorry, Molls, I'm so very sorry," Alex whispered as she drifted into a fitful sleep, filled with visions of her daughter, calling to her from afar.

**x0x0x**

It was still dark when Alex awoke with a start, the dreams of her daughter having given way to visions of Summers, Gene and Jenette Rivens. As much as she wanted to hate Gene for what he'd said, she felt overwhelmingly jealous as the haze cleared and she remembered the dream; Gene kissing Jenette. She hated the idea of him with other women, though she'd never admit it. The thought of leaving him, even to go back to her daughter, tore her up inside. He was the only one she truly trusted, the only one with whom she wanted to share the truth about herself and he hadn't been able to believe her.

Her daydreams consisted of her sitting him down and telling him everything about Molly, her likes, her dislikes, her little quirks, the things she did which reminded Alex of Pete. To be able to tell Gene about Molly would be the closest she could get to having her here with her and yet, there was never a good time. There was always some interruption, a case, a lead, a colleague, which got in the way, pushing the subject of Molly to the bottom of the agenda. But not today.

"Not today, Molls. Today is the day I come back to you." Grabbing her gun and stepping out of bed, Alex prepared for the day which she hoped would take her home. To her daughter. To be a mother.


End file.
